Not All Tribe Members Like Way Deck Is Stacked On New Casino

June 24, 1999|By Sara Gay Dammann. Special to the Tribune.

SAULT STE. MARIE, Mich. — In a stunning leap out of poverty fueled by casino gambling, the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians has become a multimillion-dollar conglomerate. But with wealth has come acrimony and dissent over plans to spend $500 million for a major casino in Detroit.

The tribe, already recognized as one of the richer tribes in the U.S. thanks to casino gambling, hopes to secure its wealth with the opening this fall of its first off-reservation casino in Detroit's Greek Town. The tribe's casinos and other enterprises in this small city of 18,000 on the Canadian border, are already credited as being the economic savior of this formerly depressed northern Michigan community.

Yet the chorus of questions, from tribal members who feel they have been left out, is loud. In addition, many of them criticize their tribal government as closed and secretive.

Some question why the Sault Tribe is the only Michigan tribe not making per capita distributions to its membership from casino profits or from $19 million received in federal land claims settlements. Still others see the Detroit casino project as a high-risk venture that won't produce benefits for a long time.

John Hatch, a spokesman for the tribal government, said "per capita distribution only creates dependency," and adds that because the tribe has a large membership the individual payments would be small. Hatch pointed out that tribal enterprises provide 3,000 jobs, as well as new housing and expanded health, education and social services.

The new Detroit casino, Hatch argues, can provide long-term returns to sustain those tribal services.

Much has changed for the tribe in just two decades.

In the 1970s the tribe had to file a lawsuit against the city of Sault Ste. Marie to get sewer service extended to the homes of tribal members within the city. Fifteen years ago, the tribal budget was $500,000, with most of those funds from the federal Bureau of Indian Affairs.

Dave Houghton, Native American adviser with the Sault Ste. Marie schools, said, "When I started my job, I was told I could easily identify Native American students by the way they hung their heads down."

This year, the tribe's operating budget is $57 million, with 85 percent coming from casinos. The casinos generated more than $126 million in gross profit in 1998, according to Hatch. New houses are under construction, the tribal school is flourishing and the tribe's percentage of high school graduates is rising.

Attitudes have changed, Houghton observes. "Native students are proud of who they are." While Houghton said exact statistics are not available, he believes more students are graduating, going on to college, getting degrees and coming back to work for the tribe.

Casinos also have helped Sault Ste. Marie, which was an economically depressed area for 20 years.

Tribal council member Aaron Payment recalls the old days.

"I remember when my brothers and I had to stuff dirty clothes into the cracks in the walls in our houses to keep the snow from drifting in," said Payment, who dropped out of school at 15. Now, at 33, he is completing a doctorate in public administration.

Payment credits the tribe's job creation programs with turning things around. "The casinos and other enterprises employ people who were previously unemployable. People who used to spend their days drinking are now wage earners with pride in their jobs."

But critics say job opportunities have been limited and that too many tribal members still struggle with poverty. Their main complaint is that the tribal government is closed and dictatorial.

Older members are not getting as much help as they should, said 71-year-old John Causley Sr. of Cedarville, Mich., 40 miles south of Sault Ste. Marie. "What good is it to be one of the richest tribes in the United States and have to have a fundraiser to get turkeys for the elderly for Christmas?" he asked.

Causley and others are seeking federal recognition for a breakaway tribe that would be known as the Mackinac Band of Chippewas and Ottawas.

Claiming no interest in casinos, Causley and the others say if they receive recognition from the U.S. Department of Interior, they will focus on social development.

"Our leaders have made everyone think we're getting rich when we're not. We are way over our heads with a $500 million commitment to Detroit. We are so far in debt, we are spending ourselves poor," said Biron, an instructor at Michigan State University.

The tribe, and its partners, Detroit's Greek Town entrepreneurs Ted Gatzaros and Jim Pappas, broke ground for a temporary, $116 million casino in early February. It is expected to open in October, assuming the state licensing process goes smoothly. The temporary installation is expected to help finance a mega-casino planned to open in 2003 on Detroit's waterfront, at a cost of $500 million.

Although Payment defends the Detroit venture, he agrees there has been a communication problem between the tribal council and the tribe's members.

Democratically structured, the tribal council is made up of elected representatives and is led by Tribal Chairman Bernard Bouschor. But Bouschor is rarely available to speak with the public or press, referring all requests for interviews to tribal spokesman Hatch.

"We're spoon-fed what they want us to hear," said Biron. "When we ask them for the plan or details they say it will take 25 years for us to see the benefits. We have asked for detailed analysis of how casinos help us, but we don't get it."

"We are evolving as a government . . ." said Payment, who is widely touted as a candidate for tribal chairman next year. "We have not done a good job communicating what we are doing. We need to put tribal members' benefits in terms people can understand."